Well, it wasn't as if he was wrong, Elyos mused, his gaze drifting to the lonely scrap of moss clinging to the damp stone wall — the only companion he had in this hollow place.It wouldn't hurt, he thought, to have a final conversation before death swept him away like dust before the wind.
He exhaled slowly and began, voice soft and almost contemplative:
"I was but a lad of twenty summers when I took my vows and passed the holy examinations," he said, fingers idly tracing a pattern in the dirt. "I was given a modest temple, barely more than a hut with a bell, in a village so small that it barely warranted a name."
He smiled faintly, the memory both bitter and sweet."I spent my years among those good folk, blessing their harvests, tending to their sick, burying their dead — until, of course, that village was no more. They had been forced to coexist with some bandit group, giving them food monthly if they were to proceed with their lives unbothered."
